by Robert Boren
“There are more groups?” Jacob asked. “Didn’t know we were gonna be part of something bigger.”
“We’ve got a series of cells. Your group is one. You’ll be working certain areas as a team, and coordinating with other teams when it makes sense. You won’t lose your autonomy, though, so don’t worry.”
“This is a long way from Boston,” Sunshine said as the elevator stopped.
“You won’t be living here full time,” Art said. “You’ll go back to your homes, after training and outfitting.”
“We’re going back to the bar?” Trinity asked.
Jaak chuckled. “The enemy found me. Knew I’d be a problem. It’ll be attacked tomorrow. They were just waiting for the checkpoints and additional UN Peacekeepers.”
“You’ve been less than honest,” Adrian said. “Not that it bothers me. I’m pleased that this operation is large. I figured we’d make a good statement or two and go out in a blaze of glory. Now I’m thinking we might have the resources to win.”
Art led the group into the hallway, then turned to Adrian. “The enemy can’t win. They’ll kill a lot of people trying. We want to hamper them as much as possible in the early stages, so the people can wake up and fight. It’s already happening in Pennsylvania. California and Texas too.”
“We saw what happened in Penn Wynne,” Sunshine said. “They executed people.”
“All the UN Peacekeepers involved in that operation have been killed,” Art said. “The citizens in the area rose up and took them out. It was something to see.”
“So the battle in Pennsylvania is over?” Trinity asked.
Art shook his head, getting to a set of double doors. “No, they’ll settle into a peaceful tyranny and try not to create that kind of response again. The resistance will attack them, but that state won’t look like a war zone.” He opened the doors and led them into a large room with rows of computer terminals and flat-screen monitors on all the walls.
“Whoa,” Adrian said, his eyes lighting up.
“Seriously, dude,” Justin quipped. “The mother lode.”
“Wait, why’d we load up all that stuff in the truck?” Ashley asked.
Quint chuckled. “Jaak knew the place would be attacked. He made it look like we fled the area.”
“You found me out,” Jaak said.
Dave shook his head. “All that work for nothing, huh?”
“It was for something very important,” Art said. “We’ll be constructing narratives and enforcing them with action when the need arises.”
“Pick a terminal and get set up,” Jaak said. “We’ll have a video meeting with Jared in an hour, and then we’ll meet the other cells.”
Sunshine looked at Jacob. “Did you expect all of this?”
“Nope, but I’m good with it. We’ve got a fighting chance.”
{ 10 }
Senate President
S tevie finished grinding the gun slits on the Blockbuster, double checking them all with his M79. “Yes! It fits. What’s going on at the bus terminal?”
“The UN Peacekeepers are still showing up,” Duffy said, watching his phone. “Lots of citizens are heading that direction, but there’s a big checkpoint on the far side of the intersection at 36th Street and 9th Avenue. Maybe we ought to go ruin their day.”
“There are other routes in,” Rico said.
Duffy shook his head. “We should hit them from the west on 35th Street.”
Rico laughed. “That’s one way, dummy, going west.”
“Exactly,” Duffy said. “We won’t have to try to get around the stopped cars. We can blow them away, and the citizens can arrive.”
“By ourselves?” Rico asked. “We’ll get killed.”
“No, let’s coordinate this with our buddies at the Knights of Columbus,” Stevie said. “Call them. They’ve got weapons. They were bragging about it the other night, remember?”
“Half of them were drunk,” Rico said.
Stevie shook his head. “Call them, dammit, or we go alone.”
“All right, all right, I’ll make a few calls,” Rico said, walking into the office to sit at the desk.
“He’s scared shitless,” Duffy said quietly.
Stevie nodded. “So am I. We have to do something.”
“I’m ready, but I don’t have that much time left anyway,” Duffy said.
“You aren’t that old.”
“True, but it’s been a rough road. I’m falling apart at the seams.”
“They were excited about it,” Rico said, shaking his head. “Just caught them before they were gonna hit the streets. They’ve all been watching the livestreams on social media. They’re leaving now.”
“Let’s saddle up,” Stevie said. “You got the rifles loaded like I told you?”
Rico nodded. “Frigging old M-1 Carbines. They’ll probably bounce off the UN’s body armor.”
“They’ve got body armor?” Duffy asked.
“He don’t know shit,” Stevie said. “They’ve got uniforms and those pansy-ass blue helmets. Where are the rounds for the M79s?”
“Put some in the back seat and the rest in the front, like you told me,” Duffy said. “Put some water and some whiskey in there too.”
Rico snickered. “Best news I’ve heard so far today.”
“We drink after we do the job,” Stevie said, opening the driver’s side door of the Blockbuster, Duffy grabbing shotgun. Rico opened the back passenger door.
“Hey, who’s gonna open and close the garage?” Stevie asked.
“Low man again,” Rico said, shutting his door and trotting to the chain, pulling it to raise the garage door. He watched as Stevie drove the Blockbuster out onto the street, passers by stopping to look, a few giving thumb up signs.
“Lock it up, Rico,” Stevie shouted.
Duffy looked over at him. “You expect to live through this?”
“Shut up,” Stevie said, cracking a grin. “We’re gonna make some noise.”
Rico rolled the garage door down, then slipped out the walk-through door, turning to lock it, his hands trembling. He got into the back seat.
“Hey, remember to turn off the coffee pot?” Duffy asked.
“Dammit,” Rico said, starting to get out as Duffy burst out laughing.
“He’s messing with you,” Stevie said. “Forget it. We’re going. Get ready, we might run into bad guys right away.”
The heavy vehicle turned onto the street, heading for 11th Avenue. Sparks came from the steel plates protecting the tires as they scraped the pavement.
***
Tracy McCain drove her rented car north on Interstate 81, half an hour from the Canadian Border, listening to radio accounts of violence all over the mid-Atlantic. She needed gas, so she got off the interstate , picking the gas station nearest the off-ramp.
“Who can help me?” she asked herself, fearing that there’d be problems north of the border as well. She filled her tank, then moved into a parking spot in front of the store, rushing inside, coming back with coffee and a few donuts. Start making calls. Tracy worked through the list of names in her contact list, trying one after another, nobody picking up, her thoughts going to the danger of using her cellphone, not caring in her panicked state. Ten names left, people she didn’t get along with. Members of the legislature and a clingy adviser. She called the adviser first, an energy expert named Liz. The call clicked.
“Tracy?” a woman’s voice asked. “You’re still alive? Thank God. Everybody else is dead.”
“Everybody?” Tracy asked.
There was silence for a moment. “Sorry, I’m in a state. Most of the State Legislature got killed by gunmen, right after the Governor’s building was attacked. I was between the two buildings and got a call from Cynthia.” She broke down crying.
“Oh no, she didn’t make it,” Tracy said.
“No, she was begging for her life while the call was still going,” Liz said. “They shot her.”
“No. No no no.” She broke into
tears.
“I’m sorry, I know she was your friend too,” Liz said, trying to calm down. “Where are you? Somebody needs to take over the state. The Lieutenant Governor is next in line. That’s you.”
“I was at the secure location after the attack,” Tracy said. “Panicked and took off when I heard about the murders. I’m near the Canadian border.”
“Don’t leave! We need you. Everything is falling apart.”
“They’ll just kill me. Do we know who did it?”
“Not really,” Liz said. “There are rumors it was the UN, but these guys didn’t have uniforms on, and the Romano Administration has been very friendly with the UN. Doesn’t smell right to me. Something else is going on.”
“Right wingers?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, but they’re a joke in this state. You know that. I can’t believe nobody’s tried to call you.”
“Maybe all the people who would are dead. I haven’t been able to raise anybody but you.”
“There are two state senators still alive,” Liz said. “Dannon and Walters.”
“How do you know they’re still alive?”
“They’ve been on TV and radio,” Liz said. “Neither were in the state when the trouble started. They were both in Canada. Maybe you could meet them there.”
“Neither of them like me very much.”
“Well, they are both Republicans, but given the circumstances, they’ll work with you… as long as they don’t think you were in on the attacks. Lots of toxic stuff on social media about this. They’re saying that Governor Romano brought in the UN, but lost his nerve.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“You know it and I know it,” Liz said.
“All right, I’ll see if I can get ahold of Dannon or Walters. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, hon. Talk to you soon.”
The call ended, Tracy sitting there looking at her phone for a moment. Was he in on it? She shuddered, then opened her contacts, looking for Dannon’s number, then hitting his contact. It rang five times. She was just about to hang up when there was a click.
“Hello?”
“Senator Dannon? It’s Tracy McCain.”
There was silence on the line. “You’re alive.”
“Yes, I’m alive. Glad to hear your voice, Senator Dannon.”
“Call me Dan,” he said. “Have you taken over the state government yet?”
“When I heard what happened, I left my secure location. I’m about twenty minutes from the Canadian border.”
“Oh,” Dannon said. “Can’t say that I blame you. I’m in Canada now too. Was on a hunting trip, but I’m on my way back. You aren’t really going to leave the country, are you? The state needs leadership, and fast. You know what’s been happening in Manhattan, right?”
“I’ve heard the UN has been overstepping their bounds and the people have been fighting them. Haven’t heard of anything as bad as what happened in Penn Wynne.”
“What are your plans if you take over? Will you legitimize the UN Peacekeepers or kick them out of the state?”
“I’ll appeal for calm, and get help to those who need it. That’s the first priority.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best I have now,” she said.
“When will you get back? You and I might be the only state-level officials left.”
“I’ve heard that Senator Walter is still alive,” Tracy said.
“Who’d you hear that from?”
“Liz.”
“The energy liaison?” Dannon asked.
“Yeah. She said both of you made comments to the media after the attacks in Albany.”
“Jeff must have made his trip to Canada after all,” Dannon said. “He was going up to see his brother. He’d decided against it last time I talked to him, because of the political climate before the device went off in the harbor. I’ll see if I can raise him. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“Good, do that and let me know, please,” Tracy said. “When will you be back? We should meet.”
“I’m almost to Brockville.”
“That’s right on the border. Should we meet before we go to Albany?”
“How about Utica?”
Tracy thought about it for a moment. “Utica, huh? Yes, that would work. I’ll change direction and go there now.”
“Perfect. See you soon. I’ll send you a text when I’m there.”
“Thanks, Dan. So glad we could make contact. See you soon.”
The call ended, Tracy sitting silently for a moment, her mind spinning through her interactions with Dan Dannon. Some of them had been good. Most were not, but he was moderate for a Republican, at least. It could be worse. Jeff Walter was more of a problem. Guess I’m lucky. She left the gas station, heading south.
***
Dan Dannon finished his call, letting out a hardy laugh. “Guess it’s time to have a chat with Walter.” He drove off the highway, onto the streets of Brockville, turning right on Parkedale Avenue, taking it southwest, deep into the woods. He turned right on a dirt road, lined with trees, the rented sedan bumping along on the rutted road, the pasture on either side a mixture of half-melted snow and dirt. The car almost got stuck in a muddy spot, Dannon breathing a sigh of relief as he made it past, making a mental note to go wide on the way back. There was a large clump of trees in the distance. “That looks promising.”
There was one more muddy spot to go around, the car slipping a little as he rounded it, and then he was in the dense trees, pulling over to the side. It was cold outside, Dannon’s hands shaking slightly as he used the key fob to pop open the trunk. Walters body lay there, head black and blue, blood dried around his nose, the ligature marks around his neck a sickening purple.
“Hey, old friend, guess who I just talked to?” He pulled the body out of the trunk, letting it land in the mud, then dragging it by the arms to the side of the road, where there was a good ditch. “In you go.” The body rolled out of sight, water in the ditch splashing as he landed face-first.
“Wish I had time to bury you. Scratch that. Don’t want to get my clothes dirtier than they already are. I’ve got a date in Utica.”
Dannon took one last look, then got back into the car, made a careful K-turn, and drove back to Brockville. “Shoot, I forgot to thank him. His sad untimely demise makes me the last Senator… or the President of the Senate. Yeah, it might be by default, but them’s the breaks.”
***
Stevie made the final turn, from 11th Avenue to 35th Street, which had light traffic, cars honking as he drove the wrong way, weaving between the cars.
“This is crazy, man,” Rico said from the back seat. “We’ll get nailed before we get close enough to fire.”
“Naw,” Duffy said. “They’re just letting a trickle through that checkpoint. They’ll see us coming though, and try to nail us. We need to be back a couple hundred yards before we open fire.”
“That’s two football fields,” Rico said.
“Thanks, professor,” Duffy quipped. “The range on these babies is 350 yards, but why push it that far?”
A car honked, not wanting to give up its lane, Stevie swerving at the last second, scraping against a parked car.
“Hey, dammit!” Rico shouted.
“Sorry,” Stevie said, shooting a grin at Duffy.
“You want us to let you out?” Duffy asked, turning back towards Rico, who sat silently for a moment. “Well?”
“No, this is the right thing to do,” Rico said. “Let’s get busy.”
“There goes 10th Avenue,” Duffy said. “Look, they’ve seen us. They’re moving people with guns to this side of their barricade.”
“And they stopped all traffic,” Stevie said, speeding up. “Get ready with the M79s, men.”
Rico’s phone dinged with a text. “Hey, our buddies are waiting in the wings. They’ll finish the job after we blow up their shit.”
“Now we’re talking,” Duffy said, his comment
punctuated by bullets hitting the steel, bouncing off.
“Yahoooo!” shouted Stevie, hitting the accelerator. “Fire, Duffy! I’ll turn around at the last minute, and then Rico can hit them from the back.”
“Yeah, do that,” Rico said.
“No, stop the car, and we’ll fire from behind the doors and through the front,” Duffy said. “They can’t shoot through these plates.”
“They’ll shoot under the doors and hit our legs,” Rico said.
“We’ll soften them up through the front slits first,” Stevie said. “This’ll work.”
He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a stop, Duffy firing the first round as more bullets hit the steel, the grenade going off in the middle of the Peacekeepers, sending some flying through the air, panicked survivors turning to flee, Stevie firing as Duffy reloaded and fired again.
“I’m getting out,” Rico said, opening his door, then finding he could lean forward without his feet touching the ground. He fired his first grenade, the others continuing their slow fire, bullets hitting the car, people along the sidewalk running for cover.
“Here come the Knights of Columbus!” Duffy shouted. “Hold your fire!”
A bunch of citizens rushed in, guns blazing, chasing the UN Peacekeepers around, most of them too scared to return fire, sirens approaching in the distance, cars breaking through the barricades on 9th Avenue, proceeding towards the bus terminal.
“I’d say that worked,” Stevie said. “Let’s get over to the bus terminal.”
They drove forward, getting ready to turn onto 9th when they were hit with something big, taking out the back tire on the driver’s side.
“Look out, it’s a damn UN tank,” Duffy said, getting out of the driver’s side, running to the street with a pocket full of grenades and his M79, Rico joining him, the white tank firing again, the cannon round hitting the car, Stevie trapped inside, screaming as he burned.
“Stevie!” shouted Rico, trying to rush back, Duffy grabbing him, dragging him to cover, then opening fire at the UN tank, hitting one of its big tires, and then the citizens were on it with Molotov Cocktails, the vehicle catching fire, UN Peacekeepers trying to escape through the hatch on top, shot by the armed citizens who were everywhere now.
